A Tale of Two Mexicans...

True story...

I approach number 715 where The Fi and I reside when I am greeted by a stout latino with a paint roller. He arms himself as if we are to do battle. Before I am able to call up Gandalf to borrow a staff and commence a la Steven Segal, he informs me - "other side, ese" as he points with said roller. (I added the 'ese' to the story for effect).

"Perfect" I exclaimed with three Target bags, dog food and a folder in my hands. Why shouldn't I have to walk all the way around the other side of building 7 to enter my abode.

I trapse around back to find latino numero dos going in circles on the riding mower with his airman's earmuffs on. Then a piece of mulch slings past my head (literally heard it whizz) and smashes against the wall next to me. I of course react as calmy and cooly as possible by dropping everything and fearing that a scud missle has narrowly missed me. Of course my cussing is not heard by johnny earmuffs but I'm fairly certain his limited English-speaking ability would have allowed for a proper translation.

I had an awesome off-day.

Nat finally paid the electric bill

The Pit has reopened briefly for this PSA...

I am not Irish. I enjoy beer as much as anyone, especially Sam Adams Summer Ale. I don't like to drink green things. I don't like to pee next to someone with a shamrock bead do-hickey around their neck who feels the need to pinch me because I have no green on. I don't own a green anything including shirts, shorts, socks, underwear, condom, etc. I don't want to pay $5 just to walk into a restaurant that I can normally enter for free. I don't know how to pronounce Schliante (even though you have it written in front of me). Leprachauns are in fact gay. Fuck off St. Patty.